Anything You Can Do

chapter 11



Austin was studying his photographs, contemplating exactly when and how he should spring his latest triumph on Bailey, when Gordon phoned.

"Going to the races sounds like a super idea," Austin agreed, though the "super" part had nothing to do with horses. After last night at the B&B Lounge, he couldn't wait to see Bailey again, and Gordon's offer provided him with the perfect excuse. Now that he'd seen her feelings unmasked, she couldn't again retreat into her glacial persona.

Not to mention that he'd also have the perfect opportunity to drop little hints all afternoon, have her on pins and needles wondering how much he knew about Candy Miller, then save the real surprise for later, maybe even for the trial. Facing Bailey across a courtroom should be a real experience.

He looked at the series of photographs one more time before going in to shower and change clothes. The pictures weren't what he'd expected, but in a way they were even better.

The scam he'd tried to work was an old one, and he'd been a little ashamed of himself for not coming up with something better. But after the fiasco at the bar, he had to do something. So he bought a case of inexpensive wine, taped a bow to the top, and took it to Candy Miller's house early Saturday morning. Leaving it in Candy's front yard beside her newspaper, he parked down the street with his camera equipped with a telescopic lens and waited. And waited. Candy was not an early riser.

Finally, shortly after ten o'clock, when Austin's boredom had reached major proportions and his legs were numb from sitting, Candy appeared. Wearing a magenta robe, hair shooting out in irregular spikes, she staggered through the doorway and scanned the yard. Catching sight of the box, she approached it warily, and Austin readied his camera, hoping for a good shot of her lifting the heavy carton, a difficult task for someone with an injured back. But he was disappointed. Snatching up the newspaper, she tottered back into the house.

Austin lowered the camera. Maybe he should have opted for something not quite so heavy. If she brought out a dolly to carry it on, he'd just be out one case of wine, and Bailey would still have the upper hand.

Then his lips curved upward in a smile and he began snapping away as Candy reemerged from the house with Alvin Wilson, the man who’d run into her car, in his bathrobe. The two of them lugged the box inside while Candy talked and laughed.

And Austin captured it on film for posterity.

He went home, printed out the pictures, had the evidence in his hands, and couldn't wait to confront Bailey. Now the only thing was to figure out how to go about it in the best possible way, a way calculated to let her know he'd won this one.

Austin hummed as he slapped on a little extra cologne. This should be a real surprise. Though he was pretty sure Bailey knew something wasn't right with her client, he couldn't believe she knew the full extent of the woman's duplicity. However pushy and argumentative she might be, he didn't doubt her integrity for a minute. If she knew Candy Miller was a fraud, she'd never represent the woman.

Of course, he couldn't be one hundred percent positive about Candy Miller. There was no law against having an affair with your opponent. But it would create a lot of doubt in the minds of a jury.

He smiled at his image in the mirror. This could be quite a battle, and he had some great ideas about how they could celebrate when it was all over, how he would light sparks in those cool, green eyes.

Half an hour later he knocked on her door, knowing Bailey well enough to be prepared for anything. She didn't disappoint him. Smiling warmly, she shook his hand and welcomed him as a long-lost friend. She didn't say much on the drive to the track, but that could have been because it took Paula and Gordon most of the trip to make a coherent tale of a purple teddy bear.

However, they had barely settled into their box seats at the track when Bailey stood and took his arm. "Let's go get some cold drinks," she urged. "Paula, Gordon, soda or beer?"

"You stay here, Bailey. I'll go with Austin," Gordon offered, starting to rise, but Bailey gently pushed him back down as her grip on Austin's arm tightened.

"That's okay. Austin and I have something we need to talk about."

At least they were in agreement about that. He gladly accompanied her to the refreshment stand.

As they took their place in line, she turned to him.

"Gordon and Paula need some time alone," she said. "They're having problems."

"So I gathered from the teddy bear tale," he agreed.

"We also need to pretend to get along when we're around them. Do you think you can do that? Just for the day?"

Her tone irritated him. He'd thought they were getting along. As usual, she'd managed to arouse him in one way or another.

"I can if you can," he snapped, then, when she glared at him, he placed an arm around her shoulders and smiled through gritted teeth. "Of course I can." Seeing the concern for their friends so evident on her face and feeling her slim shoulders beneath his arm, he almost believed he could.

After delivering the drinks, they went downstairs together, ostensibly to watch the horses and jockeys when they warmed up.

"Look at the sleek muscles on number five," she said, pointing to the animal he had just been admiring.

Her words brought his attention to the sleek muscles outlined by her tight blue jeans. "The jockey's overweight," he grumbled, irritated at the line his thoughts had so easily taken even though she'd resumed her cool aloofness. Then he remembered his promise of only a few minutes before. "But it is a beautiful animal. What do you think about number two? His trainer's racked up a pretty impressive record of wins."

She looked at him in surprise. "Come here a lot, do you?"

Austin leaned against the rail, enjoying his advantage. He had the edge on her now. Then, with a shrug, he tossed it away. "I have a friend in St. Louis," he said. "He owns a horse and loves to talk."

She nodded slowly, turned back to the horses and studied them for a moment, then moved a few inches closer to him. "I think two looks tired today. Do you think the trainer's record is good enough to compensate for that?"

It wasn't possible. Bailey hadn't really asked for his advice. He looked at the horse, trying to see what she saw. The animal looked fine to him. "Why do you think he looks tired?" he finally asked.

"She just seems a little off her stride. Look at her gait. "

Austin looked. He didn't see anything wrong. "Studied a lot of horses' gaits, have you?" he asked, mimicking her earlier question.

She leaned on the rail, watching the animals. "A few. You're forgetting I grew up in a small town, surrounded by farms. I've seen a few horses in my lifetime. "

He digested the information for a moment. "So which ones look good?"

Bailey couldn't believe it. Austin was actually asking her opinion about something. Not only was that a first for him, but it seemed somehow to negate the foolish image she'd projected the night before. Some of the tension left her shoulders and neck.

She studied the animals intently, looking for sleek muscles, easy gaits, the tilt of a head, the indefinables that said a horse or a human would be a fast runner, a determined competitor.

As they stood together at the rail, Austin casually draped his arm over her shoulders, sending her pulse on a race of its own. She had to admit, he had a way of generating excitement even when they weren't fighting. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to act as unconcerned as he.

She suggested a couple of horses, and Austin held the racing form so they could both study it. Leaning his head close to hers, he discussed jockeys, trainers, records, and other variables.

"Okay," he finally said. "My money's on number nine."

When she agreed, they started back inside to place their bets. His arm dropped to her waist, and she was puzzled to find his touch not only unbearably exciting, but comfortable at the same time. Had her embarrassment been so great the night before that nothing would bother her now? Or maybe, having survived the situation, having seen each other at their worst, they no longer had a need for constraint. In any event, she moved closer to him.

When they returned to the box, Paula looked up. "Who've you got?" she asked.

"Nine," Bailey answered, settling into a chair. "Surprise Finish. What about you?"

"Prince Charming. How could I resist? What's your choice, Austin?"

"Nine," he replied, sitting next to Bailey, taking her hand, and smiling conspiratorily.

From the corner of her eye, she caught the exchange of astonished glances between Paula and Gordon.

"You both chose the same horse?" Paula asked in amazement.

This was almost as much fun as beating Austin at something.

When Surprise Finish came in first, Paula jumped to her feet. "You won!" she exclaimed, clapping.

"Umm-hmm," Bailey agreed, restraining her own excitement, trying to act as though there had never been a doubt in her mind.

"Beginner's luck," Gordon assured Paula, tearing up his ticket and tossing the confetti into the air. "They don't have a great system like you do. Who do you like in the second?"

"As a matter of fact, we do have a system," Austin said, standing and looking smug. "Shall we go talk directly to the horses again, partner?" He extended an arm, and Bailey took it, smiling up at him as they strolled away.

Since Bailey and Austin maintained ill-gotten gains had to be spent right away, they treated Paula and Gordon to dinner with their winnings acquired from a large percentage of the races.

"Well," Gordon drawled as they strolled across the parking lot of the restaurant to his car, "how about we all go by my place for an after-dinner drink?"

The afternoon and evening had been wonderful, and Bailey really didn't want it to end. However, the way Gordon and Paula looked as they walked hand in hand, gazing at each other with silly grins on their faces, told her they would probably just as soon have that drink alone.

"It's been a long day," she said.

"Yes, it has. I'm beat," Austin added.

Though he was only agreeing with her, Bailey didn't want him to want the day to end. She cast a surreptitious glance at him, but could tell nothing from his expression.

"Would you mind dropping us by Bailey's place so I can get my car?" Austin asked.

"No problem," Gordon replied.

Well, Bailey thought, examining the data, Austin had said, dropping us, but then he'd referred to getting his car. The evidence concerning the end of the evening was inconclusive.

Gordon drove to her condo and let them out. Austin stood beside her in the parking lot and waved as Gordon and Paula drove away.

"We really had them going," he said, taking her hand as they strolled down the sidewalk and up the stairs to her door.

"I think Paula gave serious consideration to the idea we really were talking to the horses!" Bailey agreed, unlocking the door then reaching down to catch Samantha as she dashed out.

"They'd never believe the truth if we told them." They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

As the laughter faded and neither of them moved, Bailey wanted to ask what the truth really was. Instead she stepped inside the doorway.

"I appreciate your cooperation tonight," she said, and hoped he'd deny that was the truth of which he'd spoken, that cooperation wasn't the only thing that had happened that evening.

He did. Following her inside, he closed the door behind them, took Samantha from her, and set the little dog on the floor. Wrapping his arms around her, he gently drew her to him, and somehow her own arms naturally made their way about his neck.

He smiled and shook his head in amazement. She understood. That was the way she felt.

His lips as they touched hers were familiar and strange. They'd kissed before, but never so easily, never deliberately. The burst of flame she always felt when Austin touched her was still there, but a warm intimacy now surrounded it.

He moved back from her a few inches and gazed at her through slitted, smoky eyes. A slow smile curved his lips.

"You're so—" he began, then the smile widened, and he traced one finger down her cheek. "You're so—Bailey." Bending toward her, he claimed her lips again, moving, caressing, then sliding away, trailing down her throat. With a soft groan, he pressed her to him tightly.

The flames already igniting every inch of her body, especially those inches Austin was touching, blazed higher. She sighed, reveling in the exquisite feelings. Maybe they could stay like this forever. At least until the morning when she'd have to feed Samantha.

But his warm mouth was moving onward, downward, eliciting new, wonderful sensations, igniting fires that demanded ever more fuel. He slipped the top button of her blouse and pushed aside the fabric, and she wasn't sure if the heat arose from his kisses or directly from her breast. Boldly, brazenly, she tangled her fingers in his thick hair, urged him on, though he didn't seem to need any urging.

As he fumbled with the other buttons of her blouse, his gaze returned to hers. In his eyes she saw the same overpowering desire she'd seen the night on Gordon's lawn, but now there was something else. Amid the leaping blue flames a softness smoldered, demanding and offering.

Then her blouse slid off her shoulders and he pressed her closer, his lips returning to hers with that same odd mixture of passion and tenderness. A moan started in her midsection and rose from her throat into his mouth as she opened to him, tasted wine and peppermint candy, felt his moist warmth, the smoothness of his mouth, and the roughness of his tongue.

Frantically she unbuttoned his shirt, pressed her bare breasts against the coarse hairs and hard muscles of his chest, and it was his turn to moan. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the clasp of her jeans, and that trembling increased her passion, overwhelmed any inhibitions she might have had left. Their desires moved together as surely as their psyches had been together all evening.

His mouth again left hers, moved down to her breast, seeking and finding first one turgid peak, then the other. She leaned against the door for support, her legs and knees suddenly weak.

As if sharing the same mind, they sank to the floor together, and he slid her jeans down her hips, then tossed them aside with his own. For a moment she leaned away from him to look, to capture his naked body in her memory, to see and incorporate every muscle, every hair, every inch of him.

With one hand he traced a gentle line down her cheek and neck, over her breast and stomach, down the valley of her waist and over the curve of her hips. She looked at him, and again it seemed her thoughts were joined with his. In his eyes she saw a reflection of the need she felt to enfold and encompass him.

Then his flesh was against hers, joining with her, and the need was met. They moved in perfect unison instinctively, and she was almost unable to endure the exquisite agony, wanting culmination but wanting it to continue forever, to be always united like this.

As their movements quickened and their passions surged to a peak, she sought his gaze, found him looking at her, and they spiraled together, bodies and souls merging in a crashing crescendo.

For a long time they remained motionless, silent, still joined. Bailey couldn't think of anything to say and felt no need to say anything. Their bodies had said it all. She was content to drift in the afterglow.

Abruptly a cold, wet nose on her cheek interrupted her mellow mood, and Bailey laughed.

Austin jerked upward, apparently as startled by her laughter as she had been by the little dog's intrusion.

"Samantha," he said when he saw the problem, "your timing is terrible."

"No," Bailey disagreed, "it could have been worse."

He grinned. "It could have been." He stood, pulling her with him and against him. "You know, she's a really short dog, much shorter than the average bed. Maybe if we found yours, we could hide up there."

His hands cupped her derriere, held her against him.

"We could try that," she murmured, and decided not to tell him Samantha regularly jumped onto her bed.

*~*~*

Bailey flipped the quarter for the twentieth time, recording the results on a yellow legal pad. Ten heads, ten tails. This method of eleventh-hour decision making about the merger wasn't working out any better than the more logical ones she'd tried.

The situation was bad enough of itself, but she was having a difficult time concentrating that morning. Austin hadn't left Sunday until shortly after noon. They'd made love most of the night, neither willing to admit to being tired, then gone out to brunch. As soon as she was alone, Bailey had fallen into an exhausted sleep, waking to the morning and the miserable merger decision.

As she flipped the coin for the twenty-first time, the time she promised herself would be the final tie breaker, Stafford Morris charged in, descended into one of her chairs, and propped his feet on her desk.

"Good morning," she snapped. "Come in. Have a seat. Put your feet up. Make yourself comfortable."

He sipped coffee from a large, thick mug, then pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and started to unwrap it.

"You light that in here, and I'll put it out in the exact center of your head," she warned.

"Better have some more coffee," he advised. "You need it." But he returned the cigar to his pocket. "Tough decision? I thought you'd really latch onto the idea of being in control of everyone's fate."

"Just keep it up, and I'll vote against you." Bailey snatched up her mug and drained it even though the coffee was stone-cold and pretty awful.

"So you're planning to vote with me. I thought as much. You like the status quo." He looked so smug, she thought of retrieving the cigar, lighting it, and carrying out her threat.

"Which doesn't mean I have the right to vote to keep it. What about other people's rights? What if this is the wrong decision? I don't want to control the fate of others."

Stafford lowered his feet to the floor with a thud and stood up, grinning. "Bailey, you take things too seriously. Vote the way you want to and make it a tie vote. I’ll break the tie."

"Not if I vote in favor, you won't," she retorted, springing from her chair and leaning toward him.

"Okay." He shrugged. "In that case, Hollis'll cast the deciding vote." Unwrapping his cigar, he left her office.

Typical irrational lawyer logic, Bailey thought, flopping back into her chair. Something you'd use to sway a jury.

She tossed the coin into the air again, slapping her hand on it as it landed, but not looking to see which side was up. Stafford's logic did make a kind of sense. At least, if you wanted to buy into it, it did. And boy, did she ever want to buy into it.

She rose, smoothed her navy skirt, and straightened her shoulders. He was right about some things, though. She did like the status quo, the small size of the firm, the familiar clients, even the incomprehensible way Stafford Morris chose to run things. And she could only cast her vote the way she felt was right, even if part of that "rightness" came from personal things like concern for Gordon's place in a big firm.

Having made her decision, she started confidently down the hall toward the conference room but was struck midway by a strange feeling she couldn't readily identify. After a few confused moments, she admitted it was concern for Austin. This was someone's career she was voting on, not a game or a contest, and winning didn't feel like winning anymore.

With an odd rush of elation, she hurried on to the meeting. If she was concerned about Austin, that meant he wasn't influencing her vote. She wouldn't be voting against him, only against the merger. Perversely, that made it okay.

*~*~*

True to his word, Stafford withheld his ballot until last. However, to Bailey's surprise, the final tally showed only two votes in favor and five against.

"Feel better?" Stafford boomed as he caught up with her striding down the hall after the meeting.

"Maybe, maybe not," Bailey evaded. "If I were one of the two dissenting votes, probably not."

"You weren't," he declared confidently.

"You sound awfully sure of yourself." She turned into her office door.

He laughed and waved his cigar as he strode away from her down the hall.

"Wait," she called, hurrying after him. "Did you know all along that someone had changed his vote?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he mocked her. "If someone did change his vote, it might be because somebody else talked some sense into him."

She followed him into his office and closed the door.

"But you let me keep on worrying!"

Stafford settled in his chair behind his desk and pulled some papers in front of him. "You voted for what you wanted. That's all that mattered. All that ever mattered. Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

Bailey flopped into one of his chairs, settled her feet on his desktop, and crossed her ankles. Stafford glared at her, but she glared back.

"I have a problem—the firm has a problem—and, as managing partner, it becomes your problem." She told him what she had discovered about Candy Miller, omitting the more interesting details of how she uncovered the information. "It seems to me," she concluded, "that the firm has some potential liability."

Stafford shook his head and crushed his cigar to splinters in the ashtray. "I don't see how you got mixed up in this thing in the first place. That case was assigned to—uh—"

"Margaret," Bailey supplied.

"Yeah, her. So I don't know what you're doing in the middle of it."

"Helping her," Bailey responded quickly.

He gave her a suspicious look. "Whatever," he finally said. "Tell Margaret to find out what's going on ASAP, and you get out of it just as fast."

For once, Bailey didn't feel inclined to argue. Nevertheless, she soon decided she couldn't follow Stafford's orders. When she went immediately to Margaret's office and tried to explain the situation, the girl's small eyes seemed to retreat back into her round face.

"What are you trying to do?" Margaret asked. "At first you acted like you wanted to help me. Now you want to mess up the whole deal."

Bailey stood just inside the closed door of Margaret's cubicle with her arms folded, glad she hadn't elected to take a seat. It looked like she was going to have to intimidate. "This doesn't involve messing up a deal. This involves a possibility—a probability—of fraud. This involves ethics, not to mention our firm's reputation. "

"Everything's going great," Margaret protested. "We're probably going to win. Why are you doing this to me? You don't even know for sure that something's wrong."

"And I'm not suggesting we do anything about it until we are sure, but I am saying we need to look into this immediately. This is an order from the top, Margaret." If logic didn't penetrate the dense layers, maybe force would.

"Okay," the girl agreed with a shrug, averting her eyes. "I'll go check it out as soon as I get a chance."

Which evasive reply certainly, Bailey felt, justified her trip to the courthouse to determine the truth for herself no matter what Stafford Morris said.

*~*~*

Austin knew he was in real trouble when he was disappointed to find that Candy Miller had been involved in another, very similar lawsuit a couple of years before. He walked down the courthouse hallway, clutching his copies of the incriminating papers, wondering exactly what he should do next. He should be thrilled to have more ammunition against Bailey, but he wasn't.

He'd thought a lot about her since leaving her Sunday afternoon and had come to a conclusion. It was vitally important to him to establish a relationship with her.

All other women were pale ghosts beside her. She made him feel vital and alive. Their lovemaking had been earthshaking, opened totally new dimensions. But he knew the weekend had been only a respite. For a little while they'd touched the possibilities, but they still had a way to go before they achieved an ongoing relationship.

It represented his biggest challenge to date, but he had no doubt it would be well worth the effort.

He paused to lean over a water fountain, not really thirsty but reluctant to leave the courthouse, as though taking the information from the premises would make it real, inescapable. When he straightened, he saw Bailey heading down the hallway he'd just come up. He watched until she turned into the doorway he'd recently vacated.

No need to speculate about what she was doing. She hadn't known the details. She was there to check and verify, just as he had been. And now, being the moral person she was, she'd admit her error and back out of the case. Which meant he wouldn't have to crush her. That would undoubtedly make their relationship a little smoother.

With a sigh he jabbed the elevator button. Which also meant he wouldn't be facing her in the courtroom. What a battle that would have been! Too bad, really. But some things had to be sacrificed.

He'd be magnanimous when she admitted defeat, comfort her. No, scratch that. Even in his fantasies, he couldn't imagine being allowed to comfort her.

He stepped into the elevator smiling so broadly a couple of people returned his smile.

Definitely not comfort her. Not even in defeat. Run from her, maybe! But not too fast. Let her catch him. Then when they worked up a good head of steam fighting…

The elevator opened and he sauntered out of the building, headed for his office.

It had taken him quite a while to dig out the information, but she would likely have more of a lead as to where to look than he did. He'd give her an hour then phone her at the office and make dinner plans. Something simple but elegant. Maybe fish or steak. No sauces. Nothing messy in case she decided to throw it.